


Paper Doll Man (Papyton)

by TrashCorner



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:58:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCorner/pseuds/TrashCorner





	1. Chapter 1

The trembling cat stared blankly into the rigid face that loomed about half a foot above him, empty sockets shifting their gaze from him to the skeletal hand that belonged to them, which clutched several hundred G and was insistently pushing it across the counter.

   "I said," Papyrus reiterated, his jaw clacking, "I want to order a SPARKTACULAR MEAL."

   This was met with an indignant shake of the head; "I wish I could help you, sir," Burgerpants replied, his voice cracking far more than was reasonable for a college-aged monster, "But the SPARP… the SPARKTACULAR MEAL is a childrens' menu option."

   "Look, there's no-one else even in here today," Papyrus muttered, leaning in conspiratorially; "I only want the toy, and you've already explained to me in your headache of a voice how you 'can't just give you the toy, sir'…"

   The feline frycook frowned, shrugging; "Sorry, buddy, but I can't make exceptions. If I ran things around here, I'd have fired myself ages ago." Following this remark, he wandered into the kitchen, pressed a rolled, brownish paper object to the grill until it lit, then walked back to the counter with it hanging out of his sleepy grin.

   Papyrus placed his money down and promptly snatched the thing out of his tormentor's mouth, sniffing at it with his lack of nose. It smelt like…

 

Dog treats?

 

"Listen here, you inconsistently-shaped fool," Papyrus yelled like a distressed bee, grabbing the collar of his greasy foe's uniform and tugging him several inches up off of the floor, "You will give me a SPARKTACULAR MEAL, no matter how many personal decencies you have to ignore in order to do it, or I will make you into the most nefarious puzzle ever devised - a jigsaw!"

   "… I'm actually pretty good at jigsaws," Burgerpants whimpered, trembling as he dangled pathetically above the waxed linoleum.

   "My collection," Papyrus yapped, ignoring the meek retort; "Of Mettaton's complete 201X run  of SPARKTACULAR MEAL prizes is almost complete. However - " here he substituted a comma for snapping his jaw shut millimetres away from the cat's terrified rictus; "The delay of his glorious rebrand means that nobody - and I mean nobody - on meBuy has the already-rare Mettaton-NEO from MTT-TV's 'Giant Completely Original Robot Battle Squad Concept'." His eyeholes glanced to the side for a moment. "If you ask me, it's a dishonest title…"

 

"There is no 'squad'. It's just NEO."

 

Feeling the nervous sweat on his brow (supplementing his natural constant pit-waterfalls), the cat hopelessly pleaded with his eyes, opening his dry mouth to finally get a word in edgeways; "Look, I… I really can't help you. It's company policy, and… I don't even know if we have any of whatever that one is left, pal."

   "… You're the only person working here. How do you not know?" Papyrus dropped him without thinking, clambering over the counter, trying to avoid slipping on the feline workplace injury beneath as he hurried into the back.

   Past the grill, past the deep fryers, past the janitor's closet with "MANAGER'S OFFICE" hastily written over its plaque in paint-pen, he found them - lined up on a crummy table, the sort you might find at some crummy potluck, were a set of deep white plastic bins, full to the brim with small plastic likenesses of the one and only Mettaton, sealed in that tough, non-recyclable packaging that you fling the contents five feet into the air trying to open with greasy hands.

   Glossing over the "Mettaton Classic"s and the several different figures depicting the EX body in various outlandish poses, he shoved his offwhite claws into the barrel at the furthest end and pulled out a bushel of NEO, standing aloof, menacing, with their little immaculately-cast smolders staring up at him. He chucked all but one onto the table, tearing the packet open with his terrifying phalanges and pressed down its heart-container - just As Seen On TV!, its wings flashed in brilliant epileptic pink LED. And it was perfect.

 

"SAAANS!", came the earth-shattering nasal klaxon that was Papyrus' voice into the expanse of the house, stirring said stocky skeleton from his second consecutive siesta. "My great work is FINALLY COMPLETE!"

   Sans, being sensible, said nothing, just rolling over to face away from the TV, on which the windswept visage of Mettaton-EX was displayed in full-frame, prattling on about some sort of contest or whatever, he didn't care.

   His towering sibling, however, clutched his NEO with DETERMINATION as he listened intently to his idol's graven plasma image…

 

"… So, again, the first lucky little fan to turn up at a participating store with all nine SPARKTACULAR toys so far," he recited, his gorgeous silicone mush alight with indefatigable charisma, "Is on the fast-track to winning our number 1 MysTTery Prize…!"

   Papyrus' perpetual grin would have made it somewhat hard to tell, but he was absolutely giddy. All those snotty little monster kids were going to have to wait their freakin' turn with whatever it was that the underground's only celebrity (and only potential celebrity worth his time) was taking time out of his fabulous schedule to dole out to the peons.


	2. Chapter 2

The desperately air-conditioned greasy spoon was filled with the chatter of excited monster children, bearing armfuls of little plastic Mettatons, twisting their static limbs around and giggling at the anatomically-absurd new poses they were producing. They were filled with anticipation… and, suddenly, the lights went out.

   It was only a few moments of confounded conspiratorial whispering before the lights came back on, and in the open glass doors stood Mettaton, his stance wide and his hair a neck-length waterfall of shining black gorgeous, swathing the serene mountainside of his face.

   Snowdrake fainted in his booth seat, his shaded older brother "whatever"-ing through a mouthful of fries.

 

As though he'd never left the studio (which, in a way, he hadn't, given that the restaurant was, like much of the known underground, filled with hidden cameras anyway), he began his speech to the young'uns, about how they were such good little fans and each and every one of them was this and that, going over to pick up a certain little armless spiny thing and peck it on its constantly-bruised cheek. It seemed unfazed; something about Mettaton just didn't smell fishy enough for it.

   Nevertheless, when the larger of the two icy reptiles lifted up its "lame brother's stash" and asked if it could "just get this bourgeoisie crud over with, man", the pointy megastar clapped his hands to his cheeks and rushed over to hold the collection aloft. "Well, this is just FAB-NIFICENT," he declared, neologistically; "This is the most complete set I've ever seen! Why don't all you little sparks give a big hand - or whatever appendage you use to grasp things with - for our first place winner, Sno--"

 

"NOOOO!"

   Mettaton squeaked, dropping the toys on the table and clapping his hands over his ears. "Oh, too many vowels…!" He sunk dramatically to his knees, but as his squinting eyes looked toward the doorway, they opened wide as saucers at the sight of… of…

   "Don't even think about giving away your precious prize to some prepubescent pretender! The true winner is I, the great…"

   "Prapyrus?", the armless kid snickered, giving a disturbingly saber-toothed smirk.

   "But… that's…" Mettaton gave Burgerpants a disappointed stare, to which the distressed feline could only shrug, amidst his terrified shivers.

   "I bet this frill-necked loser doesn't have the stupidly recent, supremely-limited edition, irresponsibly-illuminated…" He presented the Mettaton-NEO in a tight clawed fist, the rest of his collection swinging in an off-blue shopping bag suspended from his other hand.

   "…" Mettaton sighed - he should have anticipated that this would happen. After all, it had happened with the essay (Papyrus' "How much you like Mettaton in ten words" simply read "legs × 10", and despite the celeb-bot's protests that the answer ought to have been disqualified, Dr. Alphys had insisted that it both satisfied the winning conditions and was mathematically sound), and the junior jumble (Papyrus had handed in not only the completed placemat, but a folder containing other things he'd unjumbled, including the large red " **NOT ATTEM** PTED" stamped on his Royal Guard Aptitude Test).

 

Pinching the bridge of his statuesque nose and breathing a sigh that could summon animated woodland creatures, Mettaton pulled himself upright and gravely announced Papyrus as the winner of yet another contest. The kids clapped gingerly, save for Snowdrake, who was still out cold, and his brother, who glowered at the skeleton and drew a claw across the place where his own neck might be.

   "… Well?", Papyrus asked, a smirk playing across his… jaw… "What's my prize?"

 

"…"

 

" _Well_?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sans was so shocked, he actually sat up on the couch. "… No way." 

"Oh yes way, my calcified comprende," Papyrus gloated, ignoring his own malapropism. 

"But… what was a kid going to do with a million G?" 

"The question is," the lanky lich replied, "What am I going to do with it?" 

Sans could only shrug; "You're going to do something pathetic…?" 

"No, stupid!" He put his hands on his hipbones and grinned (more than he already did by default); "I'm going to use it… to bribe Mettaton into going on a date with meI" 

"…" Sans felt vindicated, at least. 

"What?!" Papyrus sneered. "Is that not a great plan? You continue to be a complete philistine, my brother." 

"Well, it's a little bit… I dunno, pointless?" 

Papyrus' jaw hung in overdramatised disbelief. "Listen to yourself! Do you not realise the absolutely perfect way in which my plan can do nothing but work?" 

Sans said nothing, inviting his brother to just keeeep talkin', buddy. 

"Once we are on the fake date which I bought with money, it is only a matter of time before the glamorous object of my unwavering affection realises that I am also the handsome skeletal structure of his secret burning desire!" He cackled in that tinny way that made Sans' teeth hurt, like a fork scraping on a plate of his awful spaghetti; "So now you see it cannot possibly fail!" 

"… Except, y'know, if…" Sans wondered whether or not to finish that sentence; Papyrus just glowered at him incredulously. 

"There's no 'if' in Mettaton, dear brother…!" 

"Yeah," Sans replied, leaning forward with a sigh of tragic honesty; "But there is a 'no'." 

Papyrus briefly contemplated running into his room, slamming the door behind himself, and weeping into his COOL DUDE shirt, but not this time, he thought. "Ah, but you forget," he retorted, "There is also…" 

"A 'me'!" 

And with that, he took off into the snowy streets, ducked into the deep, dark underground, and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"… Well, I must say," Mettaton awkwardly began, apropos of nothing, between nips at the inside of his cheek; "Taking me out to my own restaurant is actually fairly flattering!" He thought about that for a little longer, before it occurred to him that it was more or less the only place to eat out in the whole known Underground, save for Grillby's.

   "Well obviously!," Papyrus announced with a voice that knew no 'inside/outside' distinction; "It's my favourite place to enjoy fine cuisine! Besides my own house." He added that last bit with as sly a wink as he could manage without eyelids.

   "… I see." Mettaton looked across the table - he owed this insane skeleton at least to think that he enjoyed the evening - he did, after all, win the contest, however unscrupulously. He gave a little courtesy smile, and as he clicked the dial on his chest to the left, the room filled with the sound of a lush chamber orchestra.

 

"… How utterly boring," the idol mumbled, turning it again and sonically assaulting the serene atmosphere with upbeat, saccharine synthesizer jingling. "Ah… music to my ears, no?"

   "…"

   "… Or to anyone's, I guess," he amended, biting down on his lip.

 

DATING START!

 

"You, er, got here a little late, so I ordered for you," Papyrus breached with a nervous grin; "I sort of… just asked for the special without asking what the special was."

   Mettaton's face was still locked in its trepident rictus when the waiter showed up. Wait a second, he thought, staring down at the diminutive orange figure bearing his delicate crockery; "Do I… know you from somewhere?"

   "Oh, yeah," he intoned in a fairly bored voice, clumsily setting down their plates and looking shiftily about with his lacrosse-ball eyes; "I… don't really know how it happened, but I just… hung around here for so long that they just hired me instead of going through all the trouble of trying to ask me to leave."

   Each plate bore a generously-sized custard tart, each with an intricately-shaded portrait of Mettaton-EX's metal-stamped and eternally-copyrighted face. Dessert first… he assumed Papyrus had at least read up to the "Quirky, But Understated" section of the familiar book he was doing a terrible job of hiding under the tablecloth.

   On some level, Papyrus intuited that guess, and he felt his DATE POWER scroll back into the negative, just a little bit.

 

The meal itself finally arrived - carbonara, for the simple reason that Papyrus had absolutely no idea what it was, except for the fact that it included pasta, and figured he could learn it by ear and add it to his repertoire… or, to dispense with the metaphor, learn it by mouth and never be able to reproduce it.

   Mettaton found it difficult to ignore Papyrus astutely dissecting the dish, only actually eating any of it in painstakingly small amounts, but found it strangely endearing, in its own incredibly pathetic and bizarre way.

   Did he actually find this loser… cute?

   Papyrus' DATE POWER was clocking back into the positives. This beautiful robot will be putty in my phalanges before too long, he thought, as he examined the texture of a sliver of bacon between his teeth.


	5. Chapter 5

"TERRIBLE!", Papyrus shrieked, the stamps of his boot echoing through the dank cavern; "Absolutely, completely and utterly TERRIBLE!"

   "So, you didn't get your awkward lipless romance-novel smooch with ol' glambot?", Sans replied, frankly unsurprised.

   "Not even a peck on the cheekbone! He is most decidedly NOT that type of machine."

   Sans drummed his fingers on his outpost, amused by the way the clacking echoed off in the distance.

 

"You know," he began, "I know somewhere… that might be able to help you."

   "Help me what, fail miserably again?", Papyrus griped; "Nyoo-hoo-hoo…"

   "Maybe. But it's worth a shot," he stated, matter-of-factly, reaching under the bench and pulling out a medium-sized, unmarked paper bag.

   "… And what is that supposed to be?" Papyrus frowned, but snatched it anyway and looked inside. "This… am I supposed to--"

   "It's not for you, numbskull," Sans interrupted, taking out a pen and a shabby notebook and scrawling down a map, which he tore off and thrust into Papyrus' free hand. "Follow this. You'll find what you need there. Probably. If it works, and…"

   "'And' what, brother?"

   "And if they'll even give it to you. They drive a hard bargain. That's why you need that," Sans half-explained, pointing at the bag.

   "For crying out loud," Papyrus groaned, "Who are they?!"

   "… You'll see," Sans replied, giving a shrug, and motioning to his beleaguered sibling to shove off.

   As he left, Papyrus shuddered at the clinking of ketchup bottles echoing up the tunnel behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Something most people would never suspect about monsters is that they, too, are often afraid of the dark. They are, in fact, often afraid of a lot of things that humans are, including but not limited to: missing appointments, locking themselves out of the house, and, in Papyrus' case, rejection. But, now, what he was more worried about was the only light he now had to guide him through the inky blackness that followed the swamps was the dim glow of the bizarre luminescent flora.  
Having not quite been as adept at solving puzzles as he (supposedly) was at coming up with them, he had at least figured out that, by nudging certain fungi, he was somehow causing the lighting of the abyss to change, and reveal a new narrow pathway to him. He was acutely aware of the fact that, if he left the path, it was very possible that the interminable darkness surrounding it could lead to deep, marshy waters, wherein something horrid most likely lurked, or to a long, long drop, at the end of which he would be dust… but as he perused the crude map again, he noticed the path he had just revealed, which seemed to lead him out of the maze ran in the exact opposite direction to the one his brother had marked out.  
   And he called me a numbskull, Papyrus thought; the nerve! He set off immediately up the path, but something - some thing - flew at his back, toppling him to the ground - the map left his hand, disappearing into the darkness, and the bag flew from his grip, spilling its contents onto the moist grass.  
   As it pinned him to the floor, it declared, in a voice that sent a shiver down his spine:

"w hO GOES TEHRE?!"  
   "I…" His jaw fell open, as he tried vainly to look back over his shoulder. "… What?!"  
   "ur… trES PASSIMG…", it replied, beady eyes frowning down at him, "adn ur not eben… cUTE! tHis is,,, cATPITAL OFFENS! okey?!!"  
   "Wait, I didn't-- hey! You take that back, you…" Papyrus wasn't entirely sure what this thing was, but he knew for damned sure he so was cute.  
   "ill tell u who I amn u lil sh@&!#??", it pronounced, "i aNM HTE LAW!!1"  
   "… No, seriously, what are you even supposed to be?"  
   "… O!" It giggled, hopping off of him and trotting around to meet him face-to-skull; "im temmie!!", it replied. She?  
   "Well, whoever or whatever you are," he groused, hefting himself up, "I suggest you treat a high ranking officer of the royal guard (TBA) with a little more respect! One formal complaint from me and you'd be--"  
   It occurred to him that the thing was, in fact, not listening at all, but was instead voraciously eyeing up the spilt bag, more particularly its rather offputting contents.  
   "… whOA… u gota… Tem Flakes!!!"  
   "Is… that what that is?", Papyrus replied, putting down his pomp in favour of genuine confusion.  
   "tem… ONLY wanst the Tem Flakes…"  
   "… Then I suppose they're yours?"  
   But she didn't touch the stuff. She just… stared at it.  
   "So, um, are you… are you going to ea--"  
   "nNOOO! u d on'T… GET IT… u big dum… stUPId!!!"  
   Papyrus was simply too bewildered to take offense, and just puzzled at the tiny thing.  
   "ur supPOSE… to GI VE ME teh Tem Flakes," she explained; "tems gota be… FED hte flake, rite? that part of ouR… CULTURAL HERITAG!11"

Papyrus leant down, took up the bag, which, bewilderingly, was still half-full, grabbed a handful and proffered it to Temmie. She gave it a cautious sniff - just to be on the extra special safe side - and happily munched the stuff out of his open palm. It was… kind of cute, really. Not take-me-to-bed cute, like his dream machine, but cute cute.  
   He lifted his empty hand and cautiously raised it above her head. She looked up, narrowing her gaze, and psyched out his intent.  
   "I'll allow it."  
   He pet her head gently, and both were contented.  
   "mayB i waz… wrogn abt u? maybe ur… a cOOL DUED!?" She let out an ambiguous, domesticated noise, and nuzzled his metacarpals. "if u wana i can… shows U to sUPER secrt… villaeg of TEM?"  
   Temmie… Village? He always thought that sign was the byproduct of someone's obscure inside joke - after all, there was enough of that on the internet for him to be sure it could happen in real life as well.  
   "folow my voic yaya??? where were goign… we dun nEED road!!" At that, she sauntered off down the opposite path, into the pitch-darkness ahead… and Papyrus, teeth chattering a little, had to follow. It could, he thought, be my only chance, after all…


	7. Chapter 7

"So, erm…" Papyrus coughed, looking around at the junk-filled cavern; "You're the shopkeeper, right?"

   "yAYA!!! naem is… TEM!"

   "… I see," he replied, looking down at her 'desk', which consisted of a crumpled cardboard box with a cup of piping hot… something… precariously perched on it.

   "u liek?? upgrad from previus desk… was… nt so good?? u feel???" She sighed, looking out past her vainly-hopeful skeleton customer into the larger cave; "spent,,, lot of muns on hte statu… tem… nOT actually THAT poplar outsied village,,,,,"

   "Yeah, I can relate," Papyrus replied, rolling his… well, he didn't really have any. Popularity or eyes.

   "buTT!!! u caem here w/ a… PURPOS! u travel,,, FAR AN WIDE for mySTERIUS SECRET of TEM!"

   Papyrus couldn't entirely disagree with that. "I, erm… I can't go into too much detail, but I'm having…" He sighed. "Relationship issues. As in, being in one at all is the thing I'm having the issue with."

   "wel… tem ALWAYS say that way 2 girls heart is thru her stomahc!! but maybe that jus… apply 2 tem,," She shrugged, taking a sip of her… whatever it was.

   "Well, I, er… two problems there. One, it's not a girl, and two, I've tried that."

   "hmm… did u go 2… fancy restaurnat?"

   Papyrus nodded, digging his heel against the hard ground; "The fanciest… the one in the MTT hotel in Hotland."

   "… emty tea??? can buy tea frum… crusty turtl mang outside here!!!"

   Papyrus frowned; "Surely even you must have heard of Mettaton…?"

   "metta tun… mETTATON?! YA!!! mettaton used come 2 tem villag… ALL TIME! wanted 2 learn bout hunan… but tems not know v much abt humans," she explained, "cept 4 their cUTE!!!!"

 

It took him a second to register the significance of that piece of trivia, and immediately shot a hand up to secure his jaw.

   "bUT!!!! if ur prepare 2 spend… a LOTA golsd… im MITE sell u… htis!!1!" She shoved a paw down into her cleavage and procured a small glass vial, full to the brim with a substance not dissimilar to what filled Mettaton's delicate glass stomach-soul-jar. "this is… ancIENT TEM SECRET, okk??? is calld a… luV philly thigny…! this frum days… b4 udnergroudn!!! when tems dun all kindsa… cOOL MAGIC STUF!? los 2 tiem now… etc. ect.??"

   "… Oh jeez," Papyrus muttered, tugging on his scarf; "I, erm… well, how much is i--"

   "is 9999 OF GOLDS…! no ifs, ans, an def no big bony buTS!"

   Papyrus frowned down at her, about to launch into another series of fabricated qualifications and delusions of grandeur… until he realised what he was still carrying in his other hand. Procuring a handful of the ambiguous flakes, he held it under the shopkeeper's nose, and, as he anticipated, she was immediately transfixed.

   "… h-hOI… thats a…"

   A smirk spread across his already-perpetual grin; "That's right. Now, what do you want more - the precious secrets of your long-sped ancestors… or Tem Flakes?"

   "i… i chuse…"

   "Well?

   "i chUSE… F-FOOB!" She clambered up onto the box, ravenously consuming the heaped handful, shamelessly coating her adorable chops with crumbs, and vainly licking at the then-empty hand, looking up with glossy eyes.

   "Yes, good, good…"

   She whimpered; "c-can… can tem hav moar, pls,,,?"

 

 

   There was silence.

 

   "PLS??!?"

   Papyrus smirked; "You can have the whole bag… if you give me the philtre!" He cackled to himself, grabbing another handful and presenting it to the desperate Temmie, who disappeared it without a second thought.

   "nO… tem wil… NEVR give u!! ur a… bIG NASTY d00dYHED!!! yA!"

   And, yet, down went the third handful, and then the fourth, and the sixth, and the ninth, and the bag was empty, and a very stuffed Tem lay flat on the floor, groaning in the way that you do when your hunger surpasses the capacity of your stomach (and anyone who can say they've never felt this, even just once, is almost certainly lying).

   Papyrus snatched the potion from atop the box, turned tail and fled out through the unassuming villagers, back into the darkness, ignoring the "bOI!"s that sounded after him, and not looking back for even one second to notice the large cerulean fungus' knowing stare following him as he ducked through the distant light of the maze.


	8. Chapter 8

Grillby smouldered away stoically, carefully drying another tumbler, reaching up to adjust his glasses every so often. ⸢So let me get this straight,⸥ he flickered, ⸢You fed a love potion to a cat, and it gave you some dog-eared paper?⸥

   Papyrus slammed his palm into his face; "No, that's stupid! I fed a cat-eared dog some paper, and it gave me the love potion!"

   The barkeep was rendered even more speechless than usual. He expected that to make more sense? ⸢Just eat your burg.⸥

   Papyrus sighed, grabbing the room-temperature sandwich and staring at it vacantly. "Oh, would that this hamburger were a Glamburger™…"

   Grillby just shrugged; ⸢I'm not gonna judge you if you wanna go to MTT. I've got enough regulars down here…⸥ Even if they just sort of hang around more than they actually spend any money, he added in his head.

   "I can't go back, don't you see? I'm in disgrace!" He dropped his meal with an unceremonious plop back onto its plate, hanging his head.

   ⸢… Oooh, okay. We're still having the hots for Mettaton, aren't we?⸥

   Papyrus looked up, frowning; "Perhaps we are, perhaps we aren't. What's it to you, hothead?"

   ⸢I'm just surprised you decide to vent to me and Sans about it instead of, y'know, talking to someone who actually knows him,⸥ Grillby sparked sagely.

   "I…" Papyrus boggled at him, not quite sure of what to say next - he really hadn't thought too much about that. Not that overlooking the obvious wasn't something he did all of the time, more or less, but still… "Like who?"

   ⸢… You're gonna have to make another trip down to Waterfall,⸥ Grillby sizzled, straightening his bowtie to punctuate his frankness. Suave bugger.

   "Pah! What do you expect me to find there? I don't even know if this stupid ph… phylum, or whatever… is even going to work!" He swore he knew what the word for it was several paragraphs - erm, hours - ago.

   ⸢If I expected you to find something, I'd be wasting my time.⸥

   "Oh nooo," Papyrus retorted; "I guess you could say I just got…"

 

⸢…⸥

 

"BURNED?!"

   And the diner filled with groans, as the ardent barman retreated to the kitchen, leaving Papyrus to his cold reception and colder burger.


	9. Chapter 9

Knock, knock…

 

Knock… knock… knock…

 

"Oh, COME ON! If I had any tissue on these hands, it'd be purple at this point!"

   "oh… i'm sorry…" The faint voice was followed by a fair amount of aimless fumbling, before the door clicked open just enough to allow blocky, introverted eyes to peek out. "o-oh gee, you're… ?"

   "I am the great Papyrus, obviously! How have you not seen me coming this way every other day to be personally trained by the fearless, awe-inspiring UNDYNE?"

   "… sorry, i don't really, uh…" He glanced around; "just a second," he squeaked, shutting the door again, and… well, that was it for what must have been several more minutes of impatient boot-tapping before he finally came back.

   "Well?!"

   "… y-yeah, you can come in, i guess… if that's why you're here…"

   "Of course that's why I'm here!", Papyrus barked, putting on his little royal guard song-and-dance all over again; "What other reason would I have for coming around here! It smells like snails."

   "that… would probably be all the snails," the voice replied, still hiding most of its body behind the opened door.

 

Papyrus sauntered in, scanning the barren house with phony derision (it actually looked kind of nice - a lot cleaner than his own house, he thought, no thanks to his idiot brother).

   "so, um… i'm not in trouble for anything, am i? f-from… you know… her?"

   Papyrus rolled his… again, there's the same issue, isn't there? "Of course not! You're a fine, upstanding… whatever. At least, I hope you are." He looked around surreptitiously, clearing his throat; "Anyway, I don't mean to seem intrusive, but I sort of have to…"

   "… to what"

   "To, um…" He untucked a schmancy glass bottle from his belt and dabbed a little of its contents behind his styloid process; "Interrogate you."

   "…" The nervous thing slid back behind the door, hiding his widening eyes.

   "Only I've… never actually interrogated anyone before," Papyrus admitted, stuffing the cologne hastily into his pants.

 

"…"

 

"… So, I was just wondering, erm…"

 

"… … …"

 

"Have you ever, um…"

 

"………………

………………"

 

"Been… interrogated before?"

 

Somewhat disarmed by the skeleton's complete inability to be in the least bit menacing, the ghost emerged fully from behind the door. "… i guess not… do you, uh… want t-to try anyway…?"

   "… Sure," Papyrus replied through gritted teeth - all those ellipses were starting to hurt.

 

INTERROGATION START!

 

"So, I guess I have to… ask you who you actually are, first."

   "well, um… my name's napstablook, but pretty much the only people i talk to are online, so i suppose most people who actually know me know me as '2ghoul4school'."

   Drat, Papyrus thought, what a waste of such an impressively not-lame username… wait a second - snails? Seclusion? '-blook'? "Nooo…! It can't be… I already know who you are!"

   "… really? oh jeez, i… do people talk about me back in snowdin…? o-oh no, i…" He trailed off, fretting quietly to himself behind closed eyelids.

   "It's not possible," Papyrus monologued, ignoring the potential panic attack unfolding in front of him, "You've already rendered half of my thorough, relentless questioning useless! It's so obvious that you anticipated this from the very beginning!"

   Napstablook wondered what INTERROGATING POWER was, and why his was filling up dramatically. "could you at least tell me… who sent you? just so i, uh… i don't want to be up all night thinking about who's been talking about me… again…"

   "… That's funny, actually, because wouldn't you know, it was Grillby, 'cause I was talking to him about people who might know super-secret things about Mettaton, and he said I--…" His knees buckled from the sudden catharsis; "Wait a second… you just made me answer one of your questions!", he declared, rather obviously.

   Napstablook ignored the slightly uncomfortable sensation of a meter he didn't know he even had increasing by another third, and pressed on; "… what… do you want to know about mettaton…? and why?"

   "…" No, Papyrus thought, I must resist… like that weird kid managed to resist my immaculate spaghetti, and-- wait, what even happened to them, anyway?

   "… i can, uh… tell you a lot of stuff about mettaton," Napstablook whispered, hovering conspiratorially close to the clumsily towering skeleton; "but you have to promise not to let him know it was me… and you have to actually let me know why you want to know what you… want to know."

   "Um," Papyrus ummed, glancing to the side - he couldn't possibly tell this hikikomori enigma the real reason, but what other choice did he have? For all he knew, that potion would do absolutely nothing, or worse… no, he had to tell the truth.

 

"well, uh…?"

 

"… Okay, if you must know, I'm…" He sighed; "I want to take him on a date. That is to say, I already have, and it has in no way influenced his feelings toward me whatsoever."

   Napstablook's eyes widened, and he blew back slowly across the floor. "o-oh my," he stammered; "oh m-my, oh my, i…" His shocked loop was eventually interrupted when he found himself phased halfway into the fridge, and, apologising profusely, re-emerged, but not without a couple of gherkins in his invisible hand.

   Papyrus was utterly bemused at the reaction his confession had elicited, and was about to say… something… but the ghost interrupted him before he could even open his mouth.

   "… i suppose i can't really… keep it a secret from anyone… especially not some as h-high-ranking in the royal guard as you must be…" This caused Papyrus to grimace, but still he said nothing, and simply listened…


	10. Chapter 10

"And finally," Mettaton announced, "Our last question, for the BEAUTASTIC grand prize…" He sauntered back over to the little podium, flicking his shiny black mop, the studio light catching in the contour of his silver cheek; "Which pasta dish has mushrooms, bacon and cream as its central ingredients?"

   Papyrus beamed, slamming a mighty fist down onto the buzzer, smashing it off onto the floor; "OF COURSE, THE ANSWER CAN ONLY BE…"

 

Mettaton focused intently on his contestant, leaning in, his one visible eye widening; "Yes…?!"

 

"UM…"

 

The timer ticked down, and electricity surged up through the lectern - Papyrus leapt back, without even tripping over his enormous boots like some kind of huge nerd.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, darling, but I'm afraid we're out of time… however!" He approached his nearly-electrocuted runner-up, fixing his scarf and patting his shoulder; "I think someone as ravishing as you deserves to win anyway!" He turned to the audience with a flourish; "No~?"

   A sea of seated monsters applauded as the other cameras switched on, their lenses scanning; a whistling armless lizard, a trio of whooping knights, and two little crystalline things supporting a "HI MOM" sign in their beaks.

   "Well, the viewers have spoken!", Mettaton declared, to even more rapturous applause, as he laced his segmented arms around Papyrus' neck; "Enough showbiz," he whispered, "C'mere, you…"

 

Papyrus shut his eyes (somehow) and braced himself as Mettaton leant in…

 

And he felt the long, slow drag of a long, rough, slimy tongue, right up the middle of his face.

 

Now-wide sockets stared with abject horror into what lay before them -  his star's gorgeous, irreplaceable head had been… replaced.

   "Woof," the pointy-eared white devil responded.

   "… NOOO!" Papyrus shoved the monstrosity away - it stumbled back on shapely legs and shook its annoying head.

   "… Woof?"

   Papyrus grabbed the amalgamate by the shoulders and shook it violently, shouting: "NO! YOU STUPID DOG! GIVE ME BACK MY METTATON!"

   "ssh bby it ok"  
   "GET OUT!", he shrieked, jostling the hideous thing harder, but it just responded with a smile, panting and dripping slobber down its immaculate breastplate.

   Finally, the shaking caused it to come loose - jaw opening much, much too wide, it launched itself from the purloined body's neckhole right at Papyrus' face, grasping his skull in its teeth and, with the force of its jump, plucking it off of his spine.

   Both bodies fell to the floor, tangled in a morbid embrace, as Papyrus' still-screaming head was carried out, stage left.

 

"Nyaaagh!" Papyrus shot bolt-upright from the floor, staring at the still-supine ghost across from him.

   "oh…" Napstablook sat up, staring at the skeleton in genuine bemusement; "i guess you're done feeling like garbage now…?"

   Papyrus groaned, face sinking into his hands, almost feeling a little phantom dog residue; "No… no I'm not."

   Napstablook thought about that for a second, and then didn't. "… would you like another pickle…"

   "I…! How dare--"

 

"…"

 

"Yes."


	11. Chapter 11

"Tra-la-la," the riverperson lilted, their boat gliding across the still waters; "What's your favourite drink?"

   Papyrus grumbled; "Sometimes I have coffee… but it goes right through me." He chuckled to himself, but frowned as the cloaked steersindividual seemingly ignored him.

   "…" They just hummed to themselves - Papyrus couldn't help but be bewildered at how they weren't actually rowing. "Hotland is actually pretty cool."

   "Yes, that's why we're going there," he replied, leaning in and staring at his reflection in the river. He almost swore he caught a glimpse of little wooden paws kicking in the water beneath the boat, but it couldn't have been… but it reminded him - he pulled out the sickly-pink love potion from his belt and nursed it in a shaky hand.

   "… Here," The boatperson said as they withdrew… some rubbery little purple thing, and a carefully-labelled glass bottle from their cloak. "Take these. If you want to get to Mettaton, you will need them," he said; "The lifts are broken."

   Papyrus groaned; "I have to go all the way through that sweltering platform crud?"

   They shrugged; "You can drink this, if you like," they assured, handing Papyrus the bottle; "But save the other one."

   "Pscht, like I'm going to need some stupid teething toy to brave some stupid jumping puzzles…"

   The riverperson just shook their head, and sailed into the growing light.


	12. Chapter 12

Alphys lay in her computer chair, dazed and half-asleep, the clashes of swords from her speakers translating into the dance of a thousand shimmering spears in her daydream…

   As the door to the lab slid open, she sat up with a start, shutting off her monitor as if caught watching _Miss Chīzukēki - Space Squid Slayer!_ again. Her eyes widened as she saw, walking from the burning stone into the perpetual artificial chill of the room…

   "Oh! M-mettaton! I… h-hi…" She grinned about as awkwardly as was physically possible, rubbing her hands together as she hopped onto the cold lino and padded up towards him.

   "Alphy," he replied, flatly, his abbreviation only causing her to blush horribly, "Don't do this… I really need to talk to you."

   She dug her heel against the floor, looking down with a sigh; "S-sorry… I, um…"

   He shushed her, heading for the escalator, and she scurried after him, her face a tapestry of worry.

 

The port at his back firmly screwed into the tube of the bizarre machine, slowly siphoning its strange product into his torso, swathing his soul in nourishing… something… he reclined, perched on the work table, and Alphys tried to avoid staring at his idly-swinging legs.

   "The worst part is," he said, eyes shut in resignation, "I think that crazy skeleton actually does love me." He briefly glanced at Alphys, who looked completely unfazed, and just shook her head.

   "Of course he loves you," Alphys replied, "Everyone does! You're the star of the Underground! With a capital 'THE'!"

   "I know," he sighed, "But I mean… I think he loves me. You know, the way you love Undyne."

   Alphys eeped, pulling her phone out and pressing a large blue button, then leapt onto her unfolding box-futon and cocooned herself in blankets.

   "… Well, it is the same," he continued, "You think she's beautiful and amazing, strong and powerful, probably loving and caring underneath all of it, and you just want to wake up with her every morning and fall asleep with her every night, but you know you can't have her, and that just makes you want her even more. Right?"

   "I… I don't know where you get off being so insightful," she sniffled.

   "… It's your diary, Alphy," he replied, and she peeked out to stare four daggers at him.

   "I… s-still don't know what you're saying," she lied - she just didn't want to get it.

   "Papyrus seems like he's like that for me," he replied; "I mean, I dreamed up the last contest because I thought it would be impossible for him to win it. And what did he do? He won it, and he wasted every last coin to take me out on an awkward date. Do you know what that means?"

   "…" Alphys hid herself again, wishing she had more sheets.

   "It means that I'm going to…"

   Alphys shook her head, out of sight.

   "I'm going to… take him on a real one."

   Alphys unrolled herself, thunking onto the floor, then scrambled up to throw herself at Mettaton's boots; "No… no! Can you think about what you're saying just for one second?"

   He blinked down at her; "What do you mean…? I have thought about it."

   "No, you haven't, because if you did think about it, you wouldn't be saying… well, what you're saying now!"

   "…"

   "You have to have a new contest, one that he couldn't possibly win, so that he feels like he's failed you, and then you take him on the real date! Th-that way h-he knows that he doesn't have to impress you and that you love him the way he is, l-like in Chapter 11 when M--"

 

"…"

 

"… What?"

 

"Alphy…" He shook his head, getting down from the table and kneeling on the floor before her.

   "… What…"

   "You're a genius." He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead; "I think I know exactly what to do. You'll just need to help me with th--…"

 

"Alphy?"

 

She'd fainted.


End file.
